


Love is pretty often debris

by wrunic



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Hanahaki!Michael, I love Michael so he gets to suffer, M/M, Pining, Pining Michael, Platonic Christine and Michael, Post-Squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrunic/pseuds/wrunic
Summary: Pining always sucks, but it's about a million times worse when you start coughing up flowers as a result. Michael knows this all too well.





	1. You've known since seventh grade

Tumblr. Michael had to find out what was wrong with him on _Tumblr _.__

____

____

It had started in seventh grade. Michael was talking to Jeremy, as was usually the case, when Jeremy mentioned, for the first time ever, Christine Canigula. Michael suddenly experienced an extremely unpleasant sensation, like something was climbing up his throat. He ignored it at first, figuring it was just his emotions playing tricks on him. He kept listening to Jeremy, barely absorbing what he was saying, focusing only on him. He barely stammered around Michael anymore, and he looked so passionate talking about this girl. That observation brought about the return of the crawling sensation, accompanied by the feeling of something settling in his mouth. That was just too weird to ignore. Trying to keep Jeremy from noticing, Michael searched for whatever it was with his tongue and spit it out. Jeremy was still going on about Christine and didn't notice when a leaf came out of Michael's mouth. A leaf? What the hell? Michael dropped it on the ground, promising himself that he'd figure it out later.

By the time Michael got home that afternoon, he had coughed up one leaf, five petals and two entire flowers. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew he needed it to stop. Deciding that it was probably a bad idea to talk to anyone about this, given how weird the whole situation was, he opted for consulting Google instead. He found his laptop and typed: "Coughing up flower petals???" into the search bar. He scrolled through a bunch of results about babies and pets eating and throwing up flowers before finally landing on a Tumblr tag for "hanahaki". He decided that it was at least worth a shot, and clicked on it, scrolling through picture after picture of "kawaii" girls with flowers in their mouths. He was about to give up when he noticed the caption for one of the pictures, which was a definition: "The hanahaki disease is a fictional disease, where the victim regurgitates and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. Curable when the feelings are reciprocated." Michael stared blankly at the screen, feeling the now familiar sensation of another flower making its way up his throat. He yanked it out the second he could, tearing it into tiny pieces and throwing it away. Michael felt tears pricking at his eyes and in an effort to find out more about what was happening to him, decided to scower the internet for flower species. He discovered that his disease flowers were morning glories. They were blue, the same shade as Jeremy's eyes. Still morbidly curious despite the tears that were now starting to roll down his cheeks, he looked up what the significance of those characteristics were. Blue symbolized the unattainable and morning glories symbolized unrequited love. Great. Not only did he have a supposedly fictional illness, said illness seemed to have a sick sense of humour too. He slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away from him, off the bed, not even caring if he broke it, then curled up on his side, sobbing. This was the worst day of his life.

Seventh grade Michael didn't know it, but the actual worst day of his life would come three years later, in the bathroom of a person he barely knew, sitting in the bathtub, drowning in morning glories and tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really plot-key, just some more setup.
> 
> There's a weed mention (very brief; no details), so if that makes you uncomfortable, be cautious.

Michael decided that night to keep the hanahaki hidden from everyone, _especially _Jeremy. Had the circumstances been different, Jeremy would have been the first person he told, given that he was Michael's best (and at the time, only) friend, but since the whole situation was indirectly caused by Jeremy, Michael absolutely could not let him find out. It was just a stupid crush anyway, and he was sure it would go away soon.__

____

____

Unfortunately, it was now four years later and Michael was still coughing up flowers every day. But he knew all the tricks now. Notice the crawling, try to avoid talking until it stopped, choke the flower back down. He knew that this technique was probably terrible for him, and he was likely going to die soon from either morning glory poisoning or just straight up repression. But that day had yet to come, a fact that Michael was acutely aware of, because it was after school and he was hanging out (read: third wheeling) with Jeremy and Christine. They were being all gross and coupley while Michael packed his bag. He took a deep breath and slammed his locker shut, giving the pair what he hoped was a genuine smile. "Well, I'm heading out. You lovebirds have fun." They gave him a cheerful farewell and he headed out into the world, relieved to finally be away from them. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company, per se, hell, under other circumstances he might become good friends with "Christiiiiiiine", but every moment spent around her and Jeremy was a reminder that they were together, and with that came the inevitable torrent of flowers, exhausting at the best of times and almost unbearable around them.

The first thing Michael did when he got home was find a joint. He'd discovered at some point that when he was high, the flowers stopped, which was a useful little trick on days like today, when he really just wanted everything to go away for a little while. 

***

Michael was jolted awake (when the hell had he fallen asleep?) at 11 pm by his phone going off. He was relieved to find that he hadn't accidentally set himself on fire and that the joint was out and safely on the other side of the room. _Good to know I don't mess everything up _. After that was over with, he finally remembered to check his phone. There were about twenty different notifications, but the one that woke him up was a text from Jeremy. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere.__

____

____

Jerm <3 : I'm at your door. Can you let me in?

It wasn't an altogether uncommon thing for the boys to just show up at each other's houses at odd hours of the night, but this was the first it had happened since the "squipcident" .

You : Sure, gimme a sec

Michael quickly changed into his pajamas (he could at least pretend to have normal sleeping habits) then trekked downstairs to let Jeremy in. He opened the door and was greeted by an upset looking Jeremy.

"Hey bro, what's wrong?"

Jeremy took a deep breath, and a torrent of words came gushing out of his mouth:

"First, I just want to apologize for being a dick when I had the Squip and for ditching your and for spending so much time with Christine and-"

Michael cut him off. "First, I think you should come inside, because it's the middle of goddamn January and I can't feel my nipples."

Jeremy looked shocked for a second, then let out a small chuckle.

"Right, yeah."

Michael shook his head and stepped out of the way to let Jeremy in, immediately heading into the basement and collapsing on a beanbag chair.

"So, may I ask what brings you here on such a frigid night?" 

No flowers yet, that was a good sign. Jeremy sat down next to Michael, and took a few seconds to reply, as if he was composing himself first.

"Christine and I broke up." 

Michael was floored. When he'd seen the two that afternoon they'd been acting as disgustingly cute as usual. Michael was pleasantly surprised to know that he wasn't a terrible enough person to feel happy about the breakup, but whatever pride he felt evaporated when the first thing out of his mouth wasn't "I'm sorry" or "That sucks" but 

"Why?"

Michael winced at his awkwardness. "God, I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

God, he was a terrible friend. Jeremy didn't seem particularly phased though. 

"We just weren't...working, I guess? We're still friends and it was mutual and stuff, but..." He trailed off, giving Michael a helpless look. "I don't know what I did wrong Michael..." he started to cry, and Michael immediately had his arms around his friend, rubbing his arms and mumbling about how it wasn't Jeremy's fault and how everything would be okay, until Jeremy finally stopped crying. 

"I- I'm okay now. I don't even know why I was crying, that was pathetic." He wiped under eyes and shifted slightly away from Michael. "Like I said, it was mutual. And she figured out that she's aromantic, so I can't be mad or anything." Jeremy took a shuddery breath and gave Michael a weak smile. Michael smiled back, not really able to say anything, as he was trying to swallow the flower that had clawed its way up his throat during the ordeal. 

"Do you want to stay the night?" The boys' parents were used to waking up with a bonus kid, even on school nights, and they'd long since given up trying to stop them.

"Yeah, please."

Michael started to get up, intending to get the spare stuff his parents kept available for Jeremy, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Can we just stay down here tonight?" Jeremy's eyes were desperate and pleading, and there was no way Michael could say no to that look. 

"Of course Jer." He said softly, settling back to the ground. Jeremy crawled over to Michael and curled up beside him, with his head in the other boy's chest. He was out in a few seconds, and Michael just accepted the fact that he wasn't sleeping that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... wow. This fic has gotten, well, shockingly popular. Your comments are honestly the highlights of my day, and I'm overjoyed with all the positive feedback I've gotten. Someone is drawing FANART based on this, a random person on Instagram mentioned that they loved this fic in a caption, and GEORGE MCFUCKING SALAZAR knows of its existence. I just, wow. This is so amazing and I really don't deserve all this. Thank you and love you all!

Michael did actually get some sleep. An hour throughout the entire night, but better than nothing. He didn't tell Jeremy of course, because that would have led to a lecture about sleeping habits and Jeremy feeling guilty about keeping him up, neither of which Michael was in the mood for. Michael stumbled through the morning, parents joking about how glad they were to have their second son back, trying not to crash the PT cruiser on the drive to school, zombie his way through his first three classes. Lunch finally arrived, and he managed to escape Jeremy, who had barely left his side all day, claiming he was trying to make up for lost time. If the circumstances had been any less fucked up, Michael would have appreciated the effort, but because his life sucked, all Jeremy's increased presence did was double the amount of flowers Michael produced that day.

Michael was now in the library with his headphones on and his face buried in his arms, desperately trying to squeeze in a nap before math class. He was just starting to drift off when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He blearily blinked his eyes open and turned to glare at whoever dared disturb him. It was, of all people, Christine Canigula. _Why must the good suffer? _he thought, adjusting his glasses and taking off his headphones.__

____

____

"What do you want?" 

That came off a little more rude than he'd intended, but given that she had just woken him up, he felt he had good reason. Luckily though, she didn't seem to notice, as she was grinning widely. 

"Hiya Michael! Sorry for waking you up, but I had a question."

Michael’s sleep deprived mind sped off in a million different directions. Part of him wanted to scream at her for hurting Jeremy (intentionally or not), another part was panicking, wondering if she’d somehow found out about his crush, and yet another part just wanted to sleep.

“- so I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing tech for the winter production?”

Michael’s brain spent an entire four seconds figuring out what was going on. It then spent another eight trying to figure out what to say. He didn’t really want to say yes, because he still had a sort of grudge against Christine both for taking Jeremy away and for breaking up with him. Was that hypocritical? Yes. Did he particularly care? No. But he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings, because Christine was, well, nice. And according to Jeremy it wasn’t even her fault (? Was fault the right word?) that she and Jeremy had broken up. So-

“Uh, I’ll think about it.” 

Okay, so that was almost as bad as no, but Christine just beamed at him. 

“Great! Tell me when you make up your mind!”

Before Michael could fully process what was going on, Christine had given him a hug and skipped out of the library. Why did she have to be so sweet? It really made being mad at her difficult. He checked his phone and found that there were ten minutes left of lunch. Ugh, no point in trying to sleep now. Michael stood up and walked towards the library doors, still in a half asleep stupor. He almost knocked into Jeremy on his way out. He immediately leaped back, running his hand through his hair. The one good thing about this encounter was that Michael was now about a hundred times more awake than before. 

“Hey Jer!” His voice cracked a bit, but honestly, with Jeremy smiling like he was at the moment, could he be blamed? 

“Hi Michael, did Christine find you?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

Jeremy lit up “So what did you say? I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, but I recommended you anyway.”

Michael felt an unwelcome fluttering in his chest, and inevitably, his throat.

“You recommended me?”

Jeremy laughed “Of course I did! Best man for the job, right? So did you say yes?”

“Of course I did!” Michael said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Wait. No, no, no, NO. Damn Jeremy and his beautiful eyes and disorienting smile and-

“Great! I’ll see you at rehearsal tonight then!”

Michael smiled back awkwardly. “Sounds good.” It did not sound good. It sounded like torture. But hey, not backing out now. Jeremy gave him a one-armed hug and went off to his next class. Michael swallowed a flower and went off in search of Christine. What had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's now time for the shameless self promo where I put my Tumblr and hope that I get to hear more from all of you lovely people.
> 
> So, here we go: wrunic 
> 
> I have 9 followers and they're all friends and porn blogs, so don't be shy, I'm a slut for feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for play rehearsaaaaaaaaaaaaal

What have I gotten myself into? The question sped once more through Michael’s head as Christine dropped what appeared a thousand pages on the table in front of him. They made a loud "smack!" noise as they hit the surface, and Michael was surprised that the table didn’t snap under their weight.

“Christine, what the hell is that?”

She smirked at him.

“Your script, obviously.”

He poked at it gingerly, as though it might attack him.

“Just out of curiosity, how long is this thing?”

She looked up at the ceiling, as if calculating something before responding.

“Well the show’s runtime is about three hours-”

“WHAT?” he exclaimed, cutting Christine off. “Look, I’m sure,” he glanced at the title on the script, “Less Misseraples is a great show, but-”

This time Christine was the one to cut him off, sounding scandalized. “Les Misérables,” she said, putting emphasis on the pronunciation, “is a masterpiece and I’ve been trying to get the school to let us do it for years. So please just help me out, okay?”

Michael raised his hands in surrender.

“Fine. But if I die of boredom, I’m blaming you.”

Actually, he’d blame Jeremy and his dorky charm that made Michael want to do anything he asked. God, he was pathetic. Christine sighed and gave him an exaggerated eye roll.

“Fine. Now get up, rehearsal’s starting soon.”

Michael picked up the papers and faked collapsing under their weight, earning another eye roll from Christine. She grabbed his elbow and dragged him in the direction of the auditorium, which Michael took as an omen of things to come. Christine had essentially taken over the drama club from Mr.Reyes, acting as director as well as playing a lead. He had a bad feeling Christine wasn’t going to be the most laid-back of the directors.

He was right. Once they’d gotten to the auditorium and Christine had stuck Michael in the tech booth, a bellowing “AAAAAAAAALL RIGHT” was called out by the tiny girl and resonated through the auditorium. The various assembled actors all quickly quieted down. Michael stopped paying attention to the actors and focused on getting acquainted with the equipment, as Christine had instructed. All the equipment was pretty simple and he had it all figured out after about fifteen minutes. He then started reading through the script, filled to the brim with notes and cues that Christine had added in, along with the text itself. He had barely gotten through ten pages when he got distracted. There was someone on stage singing about furniture. He listened to the song for a few seconds and wow, whoever was singing was good. Michael stood up and walked over to the front of the booth, so he could see who was singing and - HOLY SHIT THAT’S JEREMY. And well, if Michael wasn’t in love with him before… He leaned forward in an effort to hear better and somehow tripped over his own feet, slamming chest first into the control panel and sliding to the ground. A shrill screeching started coming from the speakers and blue and red spotlights started flashing erratically on and off. Michael scrambled to his feet, frantically flicking various switches to get it to stop, then pressing the intercom button and awkwardly addressed the actors, who were all staring at him, including Jeremy, an observation prompting a flower to start its route up his throat.

“Uh, some,” he coughed to dislodge the flower, “uh, mild technical difficulties, carry on.”

They did, and Michael was glad, because he got to hear Jeremy sing again and he wasn’t complaining about that, despite the botanical onslaught the singing brought. By the time rehearsal finished, Michael had only gotten a third of the way through the script. He was so engrossed in the reading that he didn’t notice Christine was in the booth with him until she coughed to get his attention, causing him to jump and drop the pages.

“Rehearsal’s over, you need to leave so I can lock up.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” he answered, bending down to pick up the script, then walking over to his bag to put it away.

“Hey Michael, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said, zipping up his backpack and turning to face Christine.

“Do you like Jeremy?”

Michael dropped his backpack, immediately transforming into a stammering mess. The way she’d phrased the question, casually, like it was a normal thing, like it didn’t make Michael want to be swallowed by the ground and vanish forever. 

“O-of course I like Jeremy, he’s my best friend.” he forced out, accompanied by a painfully awkward laugh.

Christine didn’t even have to say anything, the skeptical way she raised her eyebrows was enough.

“Oh. I mean, I think he’s cute, and nice, and funny, and god, he can sing and I kind of really want to make out with him but-”

Michael didn’t notice the crawling until it was far too late. By the time he stopped talking, Christine was staring at him with a horrified look on her face.

Michael briefly wondered if she was just so disgusted by his pining that he'd broken her, but then he looked down and saw the three flowers lying on the floor by his feet. 

Well, shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you all seem to be enjoying this a lot and it makes me so so so so happy! Once again, my Tumblr is wrunic, so feel free to come and chat! Love you all! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Christine Canigula and it's very obvious

Michael stared at the morning glories on the ground, immediately feeling more rise in his throat. The flowers cascaded out of him and to the floor, a seemingly unstoppable waterfall of petals. This had only happened once before, at Jake's party. He sat down amongst the flowers, trying to breathe between the petals. He went through the lyrics for "Three Little Birds" from start to finish in his mind, distracting himself so the flowers would stop. They did, eventually, but by then there was a small pile of morning glories at his feet. Christine was still there with a shocked expression on her face. 

"You probably want an explanation." he started, voice rough from the rawness of his throat. "It's called-" 

"Hanahaki." Christine interrupted breathily, still recovering from the shock of the moment.

Michael jumped a bit and stared at her in shock.

"You've heard of it?"

"Yeah I kn- I saw some fan art or something once." She said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "But I thought it was fictional."

Michael laughed bitterly. "Believe me, I wish it was. But clearly," he gestured at the flowers strewn on the ground, "it isn't."

Christine asked for details, and Michael told her the whole story, from seventh grade to now. By the time he finished, a few more flowers had been added to the pile, but it felt good to tell someone. Christine listened to the entire story without interrupting, and the first thing she said when he stopped was:

"I'm sorry."

"What? Why?"

"Because you've had to deal with this alone for years, and that sucks. Now, go home."

Michael blinked at her in shock and opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke again before he could.

"You've dealt with enough today. I'll clean this up. Go home, get some sleep."

He nodded, still in a bit of a daze, and stood up to leave.

"Christine?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Her only response was a smile as she walked past him, out of the booth, presumably in search of a mop. Michael left the auditorium, went straight home, and, after explaining (very edited) where he'd been to his parents, went to bed, and slept better than he had in four years.

***

Michael got to rehearsal early the next day, mostly because he didn't have anywhere else to be. He got there so early that he actually arrived at the same time as Christine. She beamed when she saw him, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

"I got you something! It's in the tech booth," she said, opening the door to the auditorium and leading him to the aforementioned location. "There's a note, but since we're both early, I guess I'll explain myself."

She opened the door, went to the back of the booth and pulled something out from the shadows. An orange Home Depot bucket.

"I know it's a little weird, but you told me yesterday that you swallow the flowers and I'm pretty sure that morning glories are at least a little toxic, not to mention a choking hazard, and since you're alone up here during rehearsal, I figured you should get a little break."

She fidgeted with the hem of her dress, looking at her feet, like she was embarrassed. Michael, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears because this was literally the most thoughtful thing anyone other than Jeremy had ever done for him. He pulled her into a hug, /God, she really is tiny/ a whispered a choked-up "thank you". She hugged him back and gave him a sisterly kiss in the cheek.

"I've gotta get down there or Jenna's gonna start a rumour that we're dating."

"Ah yes," Michael said sarcastically, "the aromantic girl and the gay guy. I ship it." 

She laughed and skipped out of the booth, leaving Michael alone with his bucket, grinning.

After that, rehearsals became a comfortable pattern. Michael even made friends with some of the cast, particularly the "Squip Squad", who were all, for some reason, still doing the play. That rhythm was only really interrupted once. It was one week and four days before opening night, a fact the cast knew because Christine had screamed it at them at the beginning of rehearsal. The tech cues had long been worked out, because Christine was very organized, and the girl who played Eponine was sick.  
Michael had learned all of her lines, mostly because he had learned everyone's lines, kind of inevitable after hearing them so often, but he'd always paid particular attention to Eponine's, because he related quite strongly to the "loving-someone-you-can't-have" thing. Christine knew that he knew the lines, and asked Michael to stand in for the day. Michael originally wanted to refuse, because singing?In front of people? Yeah, no thanks. But he ended up doing it. Christine had done a lot for him, it was only right. (She's also terrifying when she so chooses, but that totally wasn't a factor.)  
So he agreed, praying that they would only do Act 1 that day. No such luck. Halfway through rehearsal, Christine summoned him out of the booth. He walked reluctantly down to the stage, and waved awkwardly at everyone. At first, he just said the lines, but eventually his flair for the dramatic took over and he started acting, and, eventually, singing. He even made it through most of the performance without flowers.  
That was until "A Little fall of Rain". Lying in Jeremy's lap was already enough to make him feel like he was going to spontaneously combust, but factor in the singing and the fact that Jeremy had seemed to have tears in his eyes, and Michael had trouble getting out his lines without flowers bursting out of him. When they finished, the entire auditorium was silent, which was weird, because someone had a line right after. Michael, who had been lying down with his eyes closed, "dead", sat up and tried to figure out what was going on. Chloe was trying to comfort a sobbing Brooke, Jenna was furiously typing something on her phone, Rich was staring at them while filming the scene on his phone, and Jake was not-so-subtly wiping his eyes.  
Michael panicked, shot to his feet and ran up the aisle, back to the safety of the Mell-Cave, as he had unofficially dubbed the tech booth. He stayed there for the rest of the rehearsal, not moving until everyone especially Jeremy, had left. Unfortunately, he hadn't waited long enough, because when he left the auditorium, Christine ambushed him, practically tackling him. "I'M CASTING YOU NEXT PRODUCTION!"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Michael screeched, almost falling over in shock.

"Sorry! I just got excited, you were really good!" She grinned at him, a bit sheepishly.

"Christine, I barely made it through that last song without dying, I wouldn't survive a full show."

"Well," she said brightly, "by next production, this, "she tapped Michael on the chest, "won't be a problem anymore!"

"How do you figure?" Michael inquired sarcastically. He'd dealt with the hanahaki for years, he'd just kind of accepted that it wasn't going away.

"I have my ways." She grinned mischievously, skipping away down the hall, ignoring Michael's questions and protests. Once she was a suitable distance away, she called over her shoulder.

"You may want to check Rich's Instagram. And Jenna's Snapchat."

And then, she was gone, leaving Michael to ponder what the Hell had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George's picture with Will is the reason I keep going ( I'VE DECIDED IT'S CONFIRMATION THAT BOYF RIENDS IS CANNON AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre musical, musical, post musical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooh boy y'all are gonna hate me

Michael was a paragon of restraint, making it all the way home before checking Rich’s Instagram. There, he found a four part video captioned “I filmed this to make fun of them, but now I’m crying”. There were 538 views and 32 comments, 17 of which were Christine. He didn’t watch the video, he wasn’t in the mood for embarrassment or re-carpeting his bedroom floor in blue flowers., but he did read a few of the comments, which were all pretty positive. He almost let himself entertain the idea of auditioning, but he killed that dream off quickly, remembering how torturous those moments onstage with Jeremy were, and doing that every day for months, and then in front of an audience? Michael’s mind, ever the comedian, summoned a line from the musical: 

 

I had a dream my life would be  
So different from this hell I'm living  
So different now from what it seemed  
Now life has killed the dream  
I dreamed

Oh well, he could always do tech again.

* 1 Week and Four Days Later*

The auditorium was in chaos. People running around half in costume, trying to find props, scarfing down dinner, doing their hair and vocal warm ups. Michael was above it all, literally, on the catwalk, desperately trying to replace a shot bulb. He had just screwed the new bulb in when Christine’s voice echoed through the speakers.

“Doors open in an hour everybody, get organized!”

 

Michael clambered down from the catwalk and ran up to the booth to make his own announcement:

“Leads, once you’re in costume, I need you up here to get miked!”

He turned to Christine, who was still in the booth with him, and asked her a question that had been bugging him for a while now.

“How did you get the school to pay for mics?”

“I blackmailed the principal.” she answered casually, adjusting the skirt of her costume.

“You what!?”

“I’ve gotta go help with props, see ya!”

He called after her for an explanation because you can’t just drop a bombshell like that and leave, but he was quickly distracted by a group of leads showing up. He gave them a quick rundown on how the mics worked and showed them how to put them on another person, then sent them on their merry way. He consulted the hasty checklist he’d made, and noticed that three people were in need of microphones, Rich, Jake, and Jeremy. He picked up the mics and went backstage in search of them.  
Michael opened the door to one of the "dressing rooms", which were actually old supply closets, and found Rich sitting on an old desk, making out with Jake.

"Oh for the love of-"

"Hey Michael" Jake grinned at him, gloriously unashamed.

"I have your mics. Please, no shenanigans once they're on. I don't need Rich's sex noises broadcasted through the auditorium," he deadpanned, tossing the mics to Jake, who caught them one handed. Michael turned to go, leaving the door open so as not to encourage them. 

"You're just bitter cause you can't do that with Jeremy!

"Fuck you Rich!" Michael called back in response. He was right, of course, but that didn't mean Michael had to admit it. He returned to the tech booth, having decided to call Jeremy up rather than go looking for him as he was in no mood for another “encounter”. 

“Would the striped jackass known as Jeremiah Heere please report to the tech booth so I can mic him?”

“Come on, I’m not even wearing stripes today!” came a muted protest from onstage. Jeremy started up the stairs, and the truth of that statement hit Michael full force. Jeremy wasn’t wearing a shirt. Michael looked up the ceiling and mumbled “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”  
Jeremy appeared at the door then, and Michael flushed bright red.

“Jeez Jer, leave something to the imagination!” he exclaimed, turning away to search for the mic, and to choke down the flower and surge of hormones Jeremy’s appearance had brought.

“I was changing when you called me up, sorry.” Jeremy started to look uncomfortable, and Michael felt a wave of guilt wash over him. ‘Just because you have a stupid crush doesn’t mean you should make your best friend feel self conscious.’

“Nah, It’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll appreciate the view while I get you miked, okay?”

Jeremy turned scarlet , and Michael started to wish for the merciful release of death, but then Jeremy started laughing, and Michael realized he’d taken it as a joke. Michael quickly set about getting Michael hooked up, ‘ That was a terrible choice of words, why do you do this to me’, painfully aware of how close together they were.

“Okay,” Michael said, adjusting the wiring for the final time, “you're free to go. Break a leg Jer.”

“Will do. The all black look suits you. You look like a ninja.” Jeremy grinned at him, blushed, then went down the steps and vanished backstage. Michael choked down a flower, silently thanking Christine for forcing him to ditch his ever-present red sweater. If it meant compliments from Jeremy, he would never wear color again. God, was he that pathetic?

Showtime finally rolled around, and everything went amazingly well, especially compared to the last show, except for Michael’s flower fest whenever Jeremy and Christine, who was playing Cosette, had a scene together, because despite Michael knowing it wasn’t real, his body didn’t listen to reason, and by the end of the show, the bucket was almost half full.

At the end of the show, the cast took their bows, then called Michael down and gave him a Bob Marley cassette, rather than the traditional flowers, Christine's doing, without a doubt. Once the audience had all cleared out, the cast started to get ready for the party Christine had planned for them, (dinner at the local Applebee's together). Michael was invited, and after being begged by three separate people, he decided to go. He was ready to leave before everyone else, having only to empty out the bucket, not change and get out of makeup. He chatted politely with the others who were ready until Christine arrived, arms full of props.

“Hey Michael, do you mind coming to grab my jacket with me? I'm a bit overloaded.” She asked, smiling amiably at him. He agreed and followed her backstage. They arrived at one of the larger “dressing rooms”, and she pointed at it with her foot. 

“It's light blue, it should be in there somewhere.”

Michael nodded to indicate that he'd heard and stepped inside. He had barely crossed the threshold when he heard the door slam behind him and the click of it locking from the outside. He banged in the door, yelling for Christine to let him out, but received no response. 'Oh my god,’ he thought, “I'm in a horror movie, I'm gonna die-’

“Michael, what's going on?”

Oh, so he wasn't in a horror movie. He was in a bad rom-com.

“I think Christine locked us in here.” Michael sighed and banged his forehead on the door. He turned to face Jeremy who was unfortunately, no, thankfully, now fully clothed.

“Why would she do that?” Jeremy asked, brushing past Michael to try the door himself, with the same lack of success.

“I've got no idea.” That was a lie. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was Christine's “solution” to his little botanical lung problem. Of course, it wouldn't help because said problem was caused by unrequited love. Unrequited. U, N, R, E, -

“I may know,” Jeremy said, and he gave Michael a soft smile, the one he used to have whenever he talked about Christine. Michael's brain, unable to process that look, immediately went into panic mode.

“You do!?” He squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You do?”

“She's trying to set us up.” Jeremy said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

'OH SHIT HE KNOWS’ “Nah, she wouldn't do that, why would she do that?” Michael said quickly, his voice climbing an octave as he desperately tried to keep from stress vomiting an entire fucking bouquet.

“Well, I may have told her that I liked you, and you know how she meddled.” Jeremy looked sheepishly at the ground, the blush on his face bringing out his freckles, and how blue his eyes were-

“You what now?” Michael said in disbelief. This was a prank. It had to be. Some impractical joke the cast had decided to play on him because of his stupidly obvious crush. Jeremy still looked embarrassed.

“I told her I liked you,” he repeated.

“Why?!” Michael cried, taking a small step away from Jeremy, so he could swallow more discretely.

“Because it's true!” he exclaimed, looking like he might cry. “Because I have for a while, and every time I see you I want to do this-”

And then Jeremy kissed him. It was awkward, Michael's glasses got knocked askew, his back bumped into a desk, and he was too focused on trying to figure out what the fuck was going on to enjoy it very much. Jeremy quickly pulled away, with his “what the fuck did I just do" expression on his face.

“I-I’m sorry-” he started to stammer, but Michael cut him off.

“You're lying.” He accused, tears pricking his eyes.

“What? No, how could you-”

Michael interrupted again. “You have to be, otherwise this would have stopped!” He yelled, reaching into his mouth and pulling out a flower he had felt settle there. Except that what he pulled out wasn't a blue morning glory. It was a red tulip petal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I hope you all enjoy the final chapter, it's a beast ( 2798 words long ), good luck y'all!

Jeremy was freaking out. To be fair, he usually was, but at the moment, he was freaking out more than usual. It was eleven o’clock at night, he was freezing, and he’d just broken up with the girl he’d had a crush on since seventh grade. But none of those were what he was freaking out about. No, what had pushed him to his best friend’s house on a cold January night were the flowers. The flowers that he now knew, after almost two hours of research with Christine, were caused by said best friend. His phone buzzed, and he quickly whipped it out to check the message.

You: I'm at your door. Can you let me in?

 

Favowite person: Sure, gimme a sec

Jeremy took a few deep breaths, trying to mentally prepare himself. He was going to do it. He was going to tell Michael.

 

"Hey bro, what's wrong?"

Michael appeared in the doorway, clad in pajamas and smelling faintly of weed, backlit in the doorway and looking like he’d just woken up. Jeremy quickly launched into the speech he’d been mentally rehearsing the whole walk to Michael’s.

 

"First, I just want to apologize for being a dick when I had the Squip and for ditching your and for spending so much time with Christine and-"

Michael cut him off.

 

"First, I think you should come inside, because it's the middle of goddamn January and I can't feel my nipples."

It took Jeremy a second to figure out how to react. He let out a short laugh, realizing how ridiculous he was being."Right, yeah." He stepped inside and followed Michael to the basement, then stood by and watched the other boy collapse into a beanbag chair.

 

"So, may I ask what brings you here on such a frigid night?" 

Any courage Jeremy had worked up waiting outside vanished as he looked at Michael. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t tell him. But he had to have a reason for showing up in the middle of the night.

 

"Christine and I broke up."

That seemed like a pretty good reason to be upset. It hadn’t really upset him though. Christine came out to him, he came out to her, they hugged it out, and they were both fine. 

"Why?" Michael winced, seeming to realize that was probably a sore subject. "God, I'm sorry. That was a shitty thing to say. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

Jeremy took a deep breath, convinced he was about to actually say it.

"We just weren't...working, I guess? We're still friends and it was mutual and stuff, but..." He looked at Michael, wearing his concerned “I will destroy whatever hurt you” look. A little bit of truth slipped out then, easy to misinterpret as part of the lie."I don't know what I did wrong Michael..." he really didn’t know. Was there something so fundamentally wrong with nhim that his body couldn’t handle own feelings? What had he done for this to happen? He started crying then, everything just crashing down onto him. And then Michael was next to him, mumbling about how everything was going to be okay, and Jeremy wanted to scream that “No it fucking isn’t, because just being around you makes me feel like my throat is going to explode and I don’t know what to do about it because I’m too much of a coward to tell you!” Jeremy took some more deep breaths, and finally stopped crying. 

"I- I'm okay now. I don't even know why I was crying, that was pathetic."

It was half true. He was pretty fucking pathetic, but he knew exactly why he was crying, and he sure as hell wasn’t okay. He backed a little bit away from Michael, not wanting to make the “situation” any worse. He felt the need to inject some truth into the situation, partly because he didn’t want a blatant lie, partly because if Michael thought the breakup was bad, he’d probably hunt Christine down and murder her, which Jeremy did not want.

"Like I said, it was mutual. And she figured out that she's aromantic, so I can't be mad or anything." He took a shuddery breath, trying to stop any wayward petals from making themselves known. God, how was he going to keep this hidden?

"Do you want to stay the night?" Michael asked, the same look of concern still on his face.

"Yeah, please." Jeremy agreed eagerly, Being around Michael actually seemed to make the hanahaki worse, but despite the physical symptoms, Jeremy felt protected by Michael, even if he was technically the thing Jeremy needed to be protected from. Michael looked like he was about to leave and Jeremy panicked a little, reaching out and grabbing his wrists to keep him from leaving.

"Can we just stay down here tonight?"he asked, his voice coming out a little more desperate than he intended, but it seemed to do the trick. 

"Of course Jer." Michael said softly, sitting back down.

Jeremy, without fully realizing what he was doing, crawled over to Michael and curled up with his head on the other boy’s chest, and let the familiarity of Michael lull him to sleep.

***  
“Did you tell him?!”

“Jeremy had been in the hallway, minding his own business, when Christine, in all her jean-jacketed glory, had jumped, no leapt out at him, in full interrogation mode.

He let out a small yelp before responding. “No. I didn’t.” he sighed, heart still thundering from the adrenaline of Christine’s sneak attack.

“Why not?” she asked, somehow managing to look concerned, disappointed, and frustrated, simultaneously.

“I chickened out.” he said simply. Christine started to walk away, and Jeremy quickly started after her.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m asking Michael to join the play.”

“What, why?”

She stopped and turned to face him, taking his hands in hers.

“Jeremy, I say this with love, but…” she paused, “you and Michael are both oblivious idiots and nothing is ever going to happen without my help.”  
Jeremy couldn’t deny that truthfully, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“I would do something eventually…” he mumbled, staring at the ground.

“No, you wouldn’t.” she said firmly. “ And I have no intention of watching my friend suffer when I could do something.” Christine knew the depth of the statement, given that it was her that Jeremy had first broken down in front of and told about his problem. Under different circumstances, that honour would have been reserved for Michael, but with the situation what it was, (utterly fucked up) that wasn’t an option.

“Besides,” Christine’s voice pierced his cocoon of self loathing “I really do need someone on tech and you did say Michael was good. Where is he?” Jeremy thought for a second. “I think he’s in the library-”

She took off full speed in toward the library, yelling “See you later!” over the shoulder as she did.

“-trying to take a nap.” he finished, heading at a tamer pace in the same direction. Well if he found a pile of ashes in Christine’s place once he got there, no one could say he hadn’t tried to warn her.

***  
Fifteen minutes and several nervous tulip petals later, Michael came charging out of the library, almost crashing into Jeremy.

“Hey Jer!”

Jeremy quickly shoved his hands and the flowers they were holding, into his pockets.

“Hi Michael, did Christine find you?” he tried to sound casual, like his throat wasn’t about to explode. 

 

“Uh, yeah, why?”

Michael seemed uncomfortable, so jeremy took that to mean Christine had, in fact, asked him to join. Jeremy couldn’t conceal his excitement at the prospect of Michael working with them every day.

 

“So what did you say? I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, but I recommended you anyway.”

 

“You recommended me?” Michael sounded so genuinely touched Jeremy thought he was going to melt into his shoes.

“Of course I did!” Jeremy said quickly, like it was the most obvious thing ever. “Best man for the job, right? So did you say yes?”

“Of course I did!” Michael said in the same tone, a small grin starting to form on his face.

“Great! I’ll see you at rehearsal tonight then!” Jeremy smiled back, trying to wrap up the conversation so he could get rid of the flower he could feel coming more discretely.

“Sounds good.”

Jeremy, on impulse, gave him a one armed hug, and headed in the direction of his locker, making a stop in the bathroom to throw out some tulips.

***  
Rehearsal that evening was shockingly normal, other than Michael’s collapse onto the control panel. Jeremy also made the pleasant discovery that being on stage distracted him enough that there wasn’t a single flower all rehearsal. And that remained true until the fateful day Christine decided it was a great idea to have Michael play Eponine. He tried to argue his way out, but Christine was having precisely none of his shit, and it ended up happening anyway. Jeremy was actually pretty okay, other than the few times he almost missed a line because he was staring at Michael. Twelve years of friendship, and he never knew Michael could sing. And there were almost no flowers, until “A Little Fall of Rain”. Jeremy knew Michael wasn’t dying. But he still felt like crying, and he almost did. There was also the familiar crawling in his throat throughout the entire song, but he fought through and the result was apparently good, given that at least five people were crying. Then Michael ran off, and Jeremy stood up to follow him, only to be stopped by Christine.

“Give him some time.” 

Jeremy reluctantly agreed, and went through the rest of rehearsal, glancing up at the booth every few minutes, until Christine ended rehearsal. (read: kicked them out of the auditorium) She practically had to shove Jeremy out the door, explaining that Michael was probably embarrassed and Jeremy might not be the best person to handle the situation. That stung, but he knew she was right, so he left.

* 1 Week and Four Days Later*

“Would the striped jackass known as Jeremiah Heere please report to the tech booth so I can mic him?” echoed through the auditorium, even reaching Jeremy in his dressing room. He jogged out onto the stage, calling out:

“Come on, I’m not even wearing stripes today!” and he wasn’t, he was in costume, which Christine had insisted could not be stiped. He reached the tech booth and opened the door, only to be greeted by Michael yelling:

“Jeez Jer, leave something to the imagination!”

Jeremy, confused, glanced down at himself. No shirt. ‘You’d think that’s something I would notice’, he thought, shifting uncomfortably, and trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for his current state.

“I was changing when you called me up, sorry.” 

“Nah, It’s fine,I’ll appreciate the view while I get you miked, okay?”

Jeremy went bright red, and Michael looked like he contemplating jumping out the window. Jeremy let out a nervous burst of laughter, because that had to be joke, right? He assumed, since Michael then moved on as though nothing had happened, that it was in fact a joke. Jeremy held still as Michael started to set up the mic, despite his heart hammering at a million miles a minute, and the whole garden’s worth of tulips trying to escape his throat.

“Okay,” Michael said finally, “you're free to go. Break a leg Jer.”

Jeremy’s vocal cords then decided to conspire against him, and spoke a thought he’d first seen Michael that day, but hadn’t dared say.

“Will do. The all black look suits you. You look like a ninja.”

Jeremy grinned in an effort to cover up the awkwardness of the moment, then turned tail and fled backstage.  
***

Jeremy was backstage after the show, completely changed and about to go meet the others when he heard his door shut. He whipped around and found Michael banging on the door from the inside, yelling at Christine to let him out.

“Michael, what's going on?” Jeremy asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“I think Christine locked us in here.” Michael sighed and hit his head on the door. 

“Why would she do that?” Jeremy pushed his way past Michael and tried the door himself, because a part of him still hoped that Christine hadn’t actually done this to him.

“I've got no idea.” Michael said looking increasingly distressed with each passing second.

Jeremy felt a strange sense of calm, the kind that comes when you know you can’t escape your fate. He was going to do it. He was going to tell Michael.

“I may know,” Jeremy said, smiling softly at Michael, trying to ignore his hammering heart and the fluttering in his throat.

“You do!?” Michael squeaked, then caught himself and cleared his throat, “You do?”

That moment, that little stumble of nervousness, gave Jeremy enough courage to actually go through with it.

“She's trying to set us up.” a smile started tugging at the corner of Jeremy’s mouth, a nervous reaction to the awkwardness of the situation.

“Nah, she wouldn't do that, why would she do that?” Michael said quickly, his voice growing louder and higher pitched as he spoke.

Jeremy stared at the ground, and he could feel an intense blush heating his cheeks.

“Well, I may have told her that I liked you, and you know how she meddles.” he mumbled

“You what now?”

Michael seemed to be in shock so Jeremy repeated himself, even more embarrassed the second time.

“I told her I liked you,” 

“Why?!” Michael exclaimed taking a step away from Jeremy. His throat was burning now, a pain that tracked all the way down into his lungs, but he kept talking.

“Because it's true!” he yelled, his eyes burning too now, but he couldn’t cry, not now. “Because I have for a while, and every time I see you I want to do this-”

And then he kissed Michael. He pulled away almost as soon as he realized what he’d done, a panicked expression spreading over his face.

“I-I’m sorry-” he stammered, before being cut off by Michael.

“You're lying.” Michael said, his tone angry and accusatory, but Jeremy could tell he was fighting back tears. Jeremy had expected it to go drastically wrong. He had expected yelling, he had expected rejection, but he hadn’t expected avid denial.

“What? No, how could you-”

Michael interrupted again. “You have to be, otherwise this would have stopped!” Jeremy was confused, and was even more confused when Michael pulled out one of his flowers and rather than be shocked by it, started mumbling about how it was the wrong colour, then turning to Jeremy and demanding to know what had happened.

***

Michael listened intently to Jeremy’s story, little details and inconsistencies all clicking together into a picture that finally made sense. When Jeremy finished, Michael finally realized he was still holding the flower petal. He dropped it, not really wanting to think about it anymore, but unfortunately, he had no such luck, as Jeremy asked him for his side of the story. Michael obliged, but had barely started when Jeremy interrupted with an awed gasp.

“Four years?”

“Uh, yeah?” Michael said, fidgeting a little.

“Jesus. I barely survived three weeks.” Jeremy looked impressed, and kind of awed. Michael cleared his throat and continued his story before the look caused him to lose the ability to form coherent sentences. He ended the story at the same place Jeremy had, and they both awkwardly stared at each other for a few seconds.

“So,” Jeremy was the first to break the silence, “you like me, huh?”

Michael let out a burst of relieved laughter, the awkwardness dissipating.

“Yes, you dumbass.”

“So do you mind trying that kiss again?” Jeremy asked, half joking, raising an eyebrow at Michael.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The kiss was less awkward than the first one, and a hell of a lot more enjoyable for both parties. That as, until the door flew open and knocked Michael in the head.

“JAKE OWES ME TWENTY BUCKS!” Rich yelled, stepping into the room and grinning at the boys, who were matching shades of red. “So if you two could stop eating each other’s faces so we could get dinner, that would be great.” He spun around and walked out the door. Jeremy gave Michael a sheepish grin, then laced their fingers together. It was the happiest moment of Michael’s life. 

Eleventh grade Michael didn’t know it, but the actual happiest day of his life would come ten years later, standing across from Jeremy, saying their vows, without a morning glory in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! But this isn't all you'll be seeing of me, I already have plans for a new fic and Chapter 1 is already in the works, so I hope you'll all stick around for that! If you want to come and chat, my Tumblr is @wrunic. Love you all!


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